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by Tuptaju



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, return to home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuptaju/pseuds/Tuptaju
Summary: Jean takes Marco with him to see Trost and meet his mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to start posting this in pieces, maybe I'll change it into one big fic later? Anyway, let's celebrate the spring and the fact that I somehow powered through writing most of this fic with a first chapter! :D   
> This is a sequel to "A Day Together", so you might want to check that one first if you haven't read it. :D

I am jerked into full awareness suddenly, sitting up and turning to pull on my boots, ready to run out of our cabin in a few seconds, when a gentle hand settles on mine.

"Jean," comes a whisper from behind me. "Jean, we don't need to hurry  _ this much _ ."

It stills me for a moment, before I realize that there's no titan attack and, for some reason, Marco decided we needed to wake up before morning roll call.

It takes me another moment to see that, in fact, it's past the time of the roll call and we're still in our beds. What? How?

That's when it hits me. There's no call today. And there's a damn good reason why he woke me up. Fuck.

"Hi, Marco." He nuzzles my neck and it's an amazing feeling, especially with how rarely I get to experience it. “I guess we have to go?”

“... Prob’ly,” comes a muffled answer from somewhere under my jaw. I decide we don’t have to go  _ yet _ and put my right shoe back on the floor.

* * *

 

We really do need to go half an hour later, seeing as it’s already half past eight and the ride to Trost isn’t the shortest from our camp. 

We grab a quick breakfast, our sacks and horses, and by nine we’re out of the camp, making our way towards my home.

I have to admit, I’m getting more and more nervous about having mom and Marco meet. It’s not like I’ve ever brought a boy - or a girl - home before and I know damn well how I get with mom when it comes to that topic. Or any people I know, to be frank. It’s just- What will they think of me? Of my kind-of-overprotective mom? She pampers me all the time and, while it’s not unpleasant, it makes me look as if I were unable to do all the stuff she does for me by myself. I can handle cooking, housework and freaking  _ everything _ , thank you very much, idiots from elementary school. 

“Jean, you’re grumbling again. Is something wrong?”  _ Fuck. _

“Everything’s  _ fine _ .” I spew and regret it immediately. Here we go, we’re not even halfway there and I’m doing this again.

“Are you sure?” let me tell you, I love Marco. Uh, I mean. That much is obvious, but when we first met, he realized almost immediately that I need to be asked some questions twice before I actually answer them and never complained about it. He could, he’d be in the right to do so. It probably is fucking annoying. Instead, he lets me say my sarcastic, dismissing or whatever shit and then asks again. Doesn’t get mad, doesn’t mind it, just lets me be me. Thank God for Marco.

“‘m not,” I grumble. Again, if you believe Marco and you probably should. “‘m worried.” I keep my eyes trained on my horse’s neck, if only to avoid looking at him.

“About what?” comes an inevitable question I always find hard to answer. I take my time, trying to put together a sentence that would make sense to people outside my head. 

“Mom. And you. But mostly me?” great job, Jean. Truly a remarkable effort you’ve made.

“Okay?” he inquiries, “And why’s that?”

“You’ve seen how I act around her,” I realize that probably doesn’t sound too good; like I act that way all the time. “I mean, I don’t. Not when it’s just us. Only with people around.”

I am met with silence, or as much silence as you can get with the nature around. Birds and stuff.

“I think you’re going to have to elaborate on that.” I do my best not to sigh. It’s not good enough.

“I- I just don’t like when people see her do  _ everything  _ for me,” I look at him, I need to know what he thinks of me after learning that. 

… I might be a tiniest bit desperate.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem too perturbed by what I just said. That’s good, I guess. Definitely better than the alternatives my mind has come up with in the span of three seconds it took to blurt out that sentence.

“Why?” the question is short and sounds like he genuinely wants to understand my reasons. Alright then. Let’s try another coherent sentence. 

“Makes me look hopeless. Dependent. I am  _ not a baby _ .” I think I’m getting better at this.

“... Why would being cared about make you a baby…?” I can name a thousand reasons I’ve heard thrown at me since I was old enough to make friends. 

The list of things I’ve been laughed at for includes, but is not limited to: not tying my own shoes, having my pencils and crayons sharpened every day before school - I literally started breaking them, so I could go and sharpen them by myself - being picked up right after lessons (though this one stopped after I cried about having to go home without playing with other kids), that one time she came with me to some kid’s birthday party to make sure there was no alcohol - we were thirteen, for fuck’s sake. Making me wear that pink sweater, which was really nice by the way, but pink is not exactly a good color for a teenage boy to wear in public places, asking “Jeanbo, would you and your friend like some yummy sandwiches?” in that “cutsie voice” when I had a friend over… God, the list goes on. All the times she fixed my hair in front of my friends. Or when she- I don’t even want to think about this anymore. 

“... A lot of reasons.” Marco must’ve noticed the indubitable look of sheer horror and trauma on my face, because he doesn’t ask any further questions on that.

“Well, I’ve seen you take on both things  _ and _ people, that most of the world would be too scared to even look at. You’re definitely not a baby,” the compliment makes my face and back of my neck feel warm, as many things that Marco says do.  _ Many. Things. _

“Let’s hope you won’t change your mind about that when you meet mom.”

“Jean, I’ve met her already.” Fuck. Right, he did. He already  _ had  _ seen me act like I always do. Shit.

“Y-yeah. For a few seconds.” I don’t mention why their meeting was cut short. Don’t need to remind him how  _ exactly _ I acted. “It’s gonna be worse. And I- I don’t want to fuck it up. Again.” I’m fairly certain that if I speak any more quiet, I’ll be just mouthing words with no actual sound.

“Jean, it will be fine. Your mom seems to be a lovely person and… You don’t have to be ashamed of her caring about you, you know. And I already  _ know _ you’re fine on your own,” if we weren’t riding, he’d probably be hugging me by now. Not that  _ that _ happens often. We don’t have time for this, except for before and after meals, if we’re quick, and before falling asleep.

I miss that day at the lake.

“Thanks. I’ll do my best,” we ride in silence for a while before turning to less depressing topics - mainly the military plans for Eren titan-shifting powers. I get where they are coming from, but… Letting it all depend on Eren’s ability to focus and control himself? That’s a recipe for disaster. Marco says I should believe in the idiot more. I agree to disagree.

* * *

 

I get less and less talkative as we see the Trost’s wall and then the gates and-

When we go in, I’m sure the guards can hear my heartbeat with how loud it is. We exchange a greeting and a salute, state our business and are let in with a “Say ‘hi’ to Rosalia for us”. Great.

Having left our horses at the stable, we walk through the town and when we arrive at my door- Can I still say it’s mine? 

Anyway. 

I take a minute to steel myself and knock, not looking at Marco. When I let my hand fall, he takes it in his. It helps a little. If anything, I have him with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: _Having left our horses at the stable, we walk through the town and when we arrive at my door- Can I still say it’s mine?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Anyway._
> 
>  
> 
> _I take a minute to steel myself and knock, not looking at Marco. When I let my hand fall, he takes it in his. It helps a little. If anything, I have him with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm not dead yet! I didn't really edit this chapter, just read it and fixed a few things. Tell me if there's anything wrong, if you find any mistakes, anything, and I'll fix it!
> 
> Also, you can come talk to me on my tumblr, [@tuptaju](https://tuptaju.tumblr.com/)!  
> Please leave me a comment after reading, those are the main thing that makes writing worth it. I really need feedback. :)
> 
> Edit: I've added another 700 or so words, so it feels more like a part of the story, instead of just a flash of nothing? (hopefully)  
> I'm going to add that note at the beginning of next chapter, too. :)

“Welcome back, Jeanbo.”

“H-hello mom,” we stay like this a moment longer until I realize I’m forgetting something. Marco. Fuckfuckfuck. “I- Um, I brought a frie-” I pull away and look at her, taking Marco by his hand and drawing my breath. “This,” I elongate the word, unsure of myself. “Is Marco. My boyfriend. Marco, this is my mom, Rosalia. Kirschtein. Um, Rosalia Kirschtein.” I’d like to slap myself, but let’s try to keep this professional. As much as possible after this.

I kind of zone out and go into my head to panic in peace, but I’m fairly sure that mom and Marco exchange a hug and some kind of hellos before we’re pulled into house and I can see all that changed - and all that didn’t - since my last visit. Furniture is all the same, but there’s a new pot hanging by the window and I’m sure that tablecloth wasn’t here the last time I visited. There’s a lot of details that aren’t the same, but it’s still my old home and I’m happy to be here again.

I gather myself and am just about to show Marco around, when it happens.

Mom grabs me and turns me around just as we are starting to go up the stairs and pats me up and down, and I already feel the shame crawling over me, even before she asks-

“Are you eating out there at all, Jeanbo? You look so skinny, God. You do have more muscle than the last time, but there’s nothing much beside that. And what is up with your hair, you should get a haircut-” I take a deep breath as I feel heat flood my cheeks and neck, ready to scream profanity and run, but a gentle hand lays on my shoulder and my favourite voice stops me before I fuck it all up again.

“He’s eating! As much as they give us, we’re on military diet, miss Kirschtein! And Jean could indeed use a haircut, but there’s not really much time to worry about that with all the training we have…” Marco, I love you, but I’m capable of talking to my mother on my own.

Wait, I’m not. That’s literally the reason why I’m so worked up about all this.

“Oh, then I’ll have to take care of that! Tell me, Marco, does he do his laundry?” I do my best not to make a scene and succeed.

“Oh, I think so?”

“Mom. I’m gonna show Marco around now, okay?” I ask and pull him after me, not waiting for an answer. I slow down only after we get into my room, which hasn’t changed in the slightest. That’s good. “Um. That’s my room.” Great presentation, Jean. Amazing. Marco looks a bit stupefied as he takes the small space in; I just groan and hide my face in my hands, realizing what just happened.

“Hey, you made it,” comes a whisper from just next to my ear. “It’s fine, Jean.” He hugs me, _finally_ , and life seems a bit more bearable. I hug him back and he kisses me lightly, before stepping back. “You drew this?”

Oh _no._ Please tell me he’s not looking at this.

Of-fucking-course he is.

“Yeah. It sucks. I was twelve and in love,” Marco wears a look of total awe and I have no idea _why._ This drawing _sucks_. I can do much better now. Or, at least, could a year ago. “And a freak with overprotective mother,” the last two words are a whisper, “who drew a girl and all the kids made fun of me for that. Her eyes are crooked, by the way.”

“They are, a little,” he chuckles, “But it’s impressive anyway. And it seems like you have a type, don’t you?” his smirk has me almost fainting. Is he... Flirting with me? What is happening?

I gain enough control over myself to flirt back, but honestly, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do this.

“Well, do I?” I whisper, aiming for sultry and ending up with more of a scared frog impression than anything remotely sexy. Fuck my life.

“Dunno. Does black hair count?” he asks, but his mind is already in a different place, as he stares at my sketchbook, laying on a shelf. “Can I see?” I give a noncommittal wave and turn to avoid seeing his face as he turns the pages slowly.

I look around for any other things I might need to hide from his eyes, but thankfully find nothing else embarrassing. Sure, there’s my collection of glass bottles, but how bad can _that_ be?

“You’re good at this, you know?”

“I _used to be_ , but thanks. Um- Don’t you want to see the rest of the story?” I move towards the door in hope that it’ll get him out of my room and it actually works.

“So!” I exclaim a bit too cheerfully, leading him out of my room, pointing to each door as I inform him of its purpose. “Mom’s room, second bathroom, this used to be dad’s hobby room - it kind of still is, and here’s mom’s bedroom.” I steer us back to the top of the stairs and force a smile.

Marco’s hand comes down on mine and he kisses me gently on the cheek.

“Calm down, it’s gonna be fine. You’re doing great, Jean,” nodding, I lead us down to the living room.

“Oh, you’re done already? Would you like some tea? I have Jean’s favourite, with lemon peel… He once threw a tantrum when he couldn’t find it in the cupboard, what a day it was...” I take a look at the cups and teapot she’s brought out and relief washes over me - it’s the _nice_ set, not the usual, which means I’ll probably be spared the pain of _Jeanbo broke half of the set, blah, blah…_ Sending a quick “thank you” to whichever higher power saved me, I reach for the teapot.

“Thank you, miss Kirschtein,” says Marco, catching a pause in her monologue and she quickly takes the teapot from my hands and pours him a cup, telling him to just call her Rosalia. I try not to boil over because, for fuck’s sake, I already _had my fingers on the freaking pot_ , I could pour the fucking tea.

After mom pours me and herself tea, I let my mind drift off as she tells Marco some more about what a dumb child I was.

Apparently my mind’s idea of drifting off is staring at Marco and noticing how handsome he is. Like, we all know he’s cute. But when I really, _really_ look at him, man. His thin lips, straight nose and, believe me, that jaw could make people kill. Why is he so perfect?

I don’t hear what they are talking about over my imagination going wild with thoughts of him touching me, kissing me again. I can almost see his lips on my collarbone instead of rim of the cup.

The room suddenly feels hot and, in perfectly logical reaction, I drink the lukewarm tea in hope it’ll sedate me somehow.

“... And it’s the main reason as to why we only have four teacups of my favourite set…” Marco chuckles and I wish I could watch him more often at the camp. Shit, why can’t I...

“Jeanbo, are you even here?”

“Huh?” I blink and straighten, taking my elbow off the table and massaging my jaw where I was pushing it into my palm. Mom sighs and shakes her head in pity.

“I asked you what your plans for today were? I know you wanted to show Marco around Trost, but I need to know if you’re going to eat dinner at the usual time... And what time you’re leaving?”

… As if I know.

But if we need to get back by the curfew, then I guess that we won’t see _all_ of Trost…

“About six, probably. So we could eat around four, Marco?”

“Yes, that should work,” he says politely, not really putting his heart into it.

“We’ll get going now, then,” I finish my tea and get up, gesturing for Marco to do the same.

“Okay boys, be back in time for the dinner,” mom gets up too and I get a goodbye hug. As I hug back, I can almost _feel_ Marco’s discomfort at the scene.

Let me tell you, the face he makes when my mom scoops him into another hug is hilarious, but when he hugs back they both look so, so happy that there’s no way I’d make fun of him.

I can’t imagine how it feels, to lose your family to titans.

But hey, mom already adopted him.

Wait, does this make us brothers? We can’t be brothers.

I’m quickly thrown off this random track of thought when mom and Marco finish hugging and I get our jackets before letting Marco first through the door, calling goodbye to mom.

“So,” I begin, after closing the door. “Is there anything you’d like to see first?”

“Your mom told me you went to school nearby, can you take me there?” nodding shortly, I twine our fingers together and we’re off.

* * *

“... Marco, what day of week is it?”

“Thursday. Why?”

“... That would… That would actually explain why there’s kids around here.”

“Wouldn’t it?” he laughs. At me. Thank you for your endless support, Marco. “Is that bad?”

“No…” I drag the word out, looking away from the kids and focusing on the guy keeping tabs on them. What the  _ actual fuck _ . “Hey! Mike!” the guy does raise his head and his eyes go wide when he notices me, waving like a madman. “What’s up?”

“Jean! You’re still alive?!” he exclaims and smiles wide at me “What’re you doing here?” he walks toward us, glancing at the kids as he passes them, his dark blonde hair shining gold in sunlight.

“‘m visiting mom and showing Marco around. Marco, this is Mike, we used to go to school here together, Mike, this is Marco. My boyfriend from… Well, military,” they exchange handshakes and smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Just keeping all these from running into trouble while dad sleeps. We don’t really have teachers around anymore and he’s working his ass off. How’s the cadet life treating you?”

“... As well as you would expect. Judging by what mom has at home, you’re better off here than with us,” I scrunch my nose in distaste at the thought of our camp, but quickly turn to taking in all the differences in his looks; he’s definitely taller and thinner than he used to be, but the spark of intelligence in his eyes is as bright as ever. “Is this your job now? What happened to being the greatest musician of our time?”

“Still working on that, for now I’m just gonna do what my dad does and hope they all grow up never seeing a titan again. You’re still going to get into the police and  _ live in the peace of the inner walls _ ?” he mocks, and I feel like kicking him, but… He’s gonna be chained here, fending for those kids, never knowing whether they’re truly safe, whether they are all going to have a future at all, and I have no heart to stop him from picking on me. At the very least, I’m getting into Mitras, so no titans for me. Unless there’s more titan-shifters, but- No, keep it together.

“Yeah, that’s precisely what I’m going for,” I boast instead. “Marco’s coming with me, by the way.”

“Of course he is, somebody has to do all your work for you,” Mike smile is twisted. It’s the same smile I remember from my school days. “Always gotta latch onto somebody, don’tcha?” 

Suddenly, I am  _ this _ close to changing my mind about getting physical with the guy.  _ This. Close. _

“Actually, no, I don’t have to. I’d be doing fucking amazing on my own, it just so happened Marco’s there with me and sure as fuck I’m not gonna complain about a helping hand,” suddenly I’m up and well into Mike’s personal space, and despite him being a good ten centimeters taller I get the feeling he’s the one more intimidated. 

“Jean. It’s fine. And no, I don’t do his work for him,” Marco’s voice is steely when he puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me back gently. “He’s more than capable of doing it himself  _ and _ helping others. Thank you for talking, it was nice to meet you!” the nudge he gives me isn’t hard, but it’s definitely not a light one. Probably a punishment and reminder to behave myself.

“Yeah, uh. Give my regards to your dad. See ya.”

We leave stumped Mike with his kids and only when we’re sure he won’t be able to hear us do I get an earful.

“What the hell, Jean! You can’t swear in front of children, have you lost your mind?!” he blows up in my face and, let’s be honest, this is not what I expected. And now there’s people staring at us. 

“I- What?”

“... Am I really just something that  _ happened? _ ” he asks and I can see the hurt in his eyes for the first time. “Because I’d rather not be.”

“You aren’t. You’re more than that, Marco, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry” I hug him quickly and he’s tense at first, but relaxes into my arms. “I just- It’s not like we’re both at the top because you’re taking care of me.”

“It isn’t,” he agrees and steps back, linking our hands together. “Where’re we going?” he changes the topic with practiced ease, which stings only a little.

“The main square, I want to show you something," I say, taking the lead.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting other chapters when I proofread them, so it might take a while. :D Tell me what you think! :D


End file.
